


Cheese Toastie

by bagelauthor



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sickfic, cheese toastie, i love them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25154026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bagelauthor/pseuds/bagelauthor
Summary: When Jon is having a bad day at the Archives, Martin swoops in to make him feel better, with the help of some cheese and a couple slices of bread!
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 5
Kudos: 78





	Cheese Toastie

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO LOVELY PEOPLE so this is my first tma fanfic and i’m excited!!! i had this idea as a joke while chilling with my girlfriend but then decided that it’s actually a giant brain idea and that i should write it!!! i’m only about halfway through the first season so i apologize if this seems out of character for them, i just wanted a little fluff while i wasn’t feeling too great. i hope you guys enjoy!!!

Another day, another long list of assignments to get through. The dimly lit office was surrounded by piles after towering piles of written statements, most packed away in dusty boxes. The remaining files, however, loomed over him on his desk, some even on the floor, since it was the only remaining space for them to sit - all a grim reminder of just how much work he needed to get done. 

After a while, all of the statements had started to sound oddly familiar, at least to the unimpressed Jon. Lunatics and people who very obviously needed to see a counselor, all terrified, all very confident in what they had seen, despite the lack of evidence. Ghosts, haunted books, or even the devil himself - Jon was not denying the existence of such things, but was still hesitant in the credibility of the majority of these statements. 

But still, it was his job to believe them.

“Statement begins.”

Only a few months into his new job as head archivist of the Magnus Institute, and the workload was already beginning to take a toll on him. He had started to work later each day, eventually having to come in before everyone else just to do his job. Words blurred in front of sleep deprived eyes, and he found himself attempting to rub his tiredness away as the mundane static of the tape recorder droned on. If he hadn’t been so burdened by the stacks on his desk, the hum of the recorder might have lulled him to sleep. 

Yes, he was tired, and he did have to come in at 6 in the morning today to be able to get home before dinner, but that only meant he needed to be on top of his game even more than usual. It didn’t matter if he was tired, or even if he was, undoubtedly, feeling just a tiny bit ill - his job came first. He didn’t come all this way just to call in sick.

Plus, this case seemed significantly more interesting than the last handful, which was a compelling reason for Jon to put his effort into it. A letter written by Albrecht von Closen, regarding an eerily secluded graveyard, addressed to his friend Jonah Magnus, the very founder of the Magnus Institute. Although he knew he wouldn’t have all that much time to indulge himself in the specifics of the case, it was still interesting to see a glimpse into the history of the institute that he was now a part of.

About halfway through the audio recording, just when the sun was beginning to rise and Jon’s head was starting to slump, he turned his head to the door as he heard it open.

Expecting an intruder, Jon instead saw his co-worker Martin, just as shocked as he was, clad in a t-shirt and bright colored banana print boxer briefs. Jon closed his eyes out of decency, but groaned in annoyance.

“Martin! Good lord man, if you’re going to be staying in the archives, at least have the decency to put some trousers on!”

Martin immediately turned red and hid his lower half behind the office door. “Oh god, sorry, sorry!” He had been sleeping at the institute for a few days now, after being barricaded in his home by a familiar Jane Prentiss, and, needless to say, he had gotten used to life at the archives fairly quickly. “I didn’t think you were in until later. It’s not even seven yet.” 

Jon opened his eyes again, sighing gently at the reminder of his early morning. “I’ve been coming in early in the hopes of leaving this place before dark.”

Martin nodded solemnly, thinking about how he would just return to his makeshift bedroom after dark. It was a nice arrangement, but he missed his home. “It’s been a week and we’ve seen nothing. Do you really think she’s still out there?”

“I have no idea,” Jon said, “but I don’t intend to take any chances.” As exasperating as Martin could be with his cheeriness and lack of professionalism, he was still a good man, and Jon didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. 

Martin looked down at his feet. “No, I suppose not...”

Jon paused a moment at Martin’s expression, but quickly snapped out of it. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Martin nodded awkwardly. “Righto,” he said, leaving and closing the door behind him, leaving Jon to work in peace.

“Statement continues.”

~

Quite a few hours had passed, and the workday was coming to a close. Jon had barely gotten up from his desk since the incident this morning, save to go to the bathroom or request an assignment from one of his coworkers. The sun had begun to set, and Jon was the same as he was this morning - still knee deep in papers, except this time around he had developed a throbbing headache. He didn’t think much of it, though. He decided it would be better for everyone if he just cared for himself once he had gotten home, getting done what needed to be done while he was still on the clock.

His head swimming with thoughts, and his ideas barely living long enough for him to write them down on paper, Jon had started to become flustered. He was in a state of hurriedness, trying to get done everything he had been working on, tying up any loose ends before he had to go home.

His head in his hands, his brain filled to the brim with far too much, he stared at a document in front of him, trying to make out more than a sentence’s worth of words. He was startled when he heard a knock at the door, faint as it was, and he shot up towards it.

“What?!” he shouted, louder than he wanted to. It’s just, his head already felt so damn loud, and any other noises or interruptions to his duties would only make his head pound even worse.

“Well, I was going to make myself a cheese toastie,” came the timid, muffled voice from behind the door. “Would you like one?”

Jon rolled his eyes from Martin’s voice, and the horrible timing of his ask. He had already interrupted him once today, wasn’t that enough? “No, thank you,” he said sternly.

“It’s just that,” Martin started, opening the door and walking a few steps into the room, a slight flush on his cheeks, “you’ve been in your office all day. I don’t think I’ve seen you leave even once. Have you had anything to eat at all today?”

Only at this did Jon realize that he was, in fact, quite hungry. And what’s more, his throat felt dry when he tried to speak again. In all his business, he had completely forgotten to eat or drink anything but coffee since this morning. Damn his human body and it’s needs.

“I’m fine as I am, Martin, thank you,” he said, with more emphasis this time. “I’m far too busy for a toastie, and I’ve got a giant headache, so-“

“That’s all the more reason for me to make you one!” Martin beamed, his eyes lighting up in a warm smile. “Listen, I’m gonna bring you back a glass of water and some Tylenol from my bag, and I’ll make you a toastie so you won’t have to take the pills on an empty stomach. It won’t be ten minutes, tops!”

“I already said I-“

“Too late, already got the bread out!” Martin shouted, already halfway down the hall. Jon could still hear the smile in his voice, but he did not feel compelled to smile back. As irritating as Martin could be, at least his heart was in the right place. Plus, it did sound nice to have a cheese toastie after a whole day of not eating anything. Although, he did doubt Martin’s cooking abilities... Time would tell, he supposed. 

What seemed to be only a few moments later, Martin returned, just as cheery as when he had left, with a large glass of water, two small red pills, and a toastie on a paper plate, cut into two golden brown triangles. He placed it on a semi-clear spot on Jon’s desk, with a smile and a soft “‘ere you go”. He then sat down next to Jon, taking a bite of his own, slightly burnt toastie. Jon placed the two ibuprofen in his mouth, washing them down with the cold water, and then picked up one side of the toastie. “Try it,” Martin said, “it’s good. I even gave you the less burnt one because of my incredible generosity.” He looked up at Jon and grinned, who now couldn’t help but give a tiny smile back. He lifted the sandwich to his lips and took a bite-

The toast crunched when it met his teeth, then it immediately melted in his mouth. All the flavors danced together perfectly; butter and cheese, savory and salty. He couldn’t deny it’s deliciousness, even if he tried.

Simply put, it was fucking divine!

“Mm,” Jon hummed, wiping his mouth with his hand. “Martin, where did you learn to make a toastie as good as that?”

“Remember when I couldn’t leave my house for thirteen days?” He looked up at Jon, dead serious.

Jon stared back at him, expression softening in sadness before Martin slowly grinned and burst out laughing. Jon even found himself chuckling along with him. 

“I’m just kidding,” Martin giggled, once the laughter had died down. “It’s all I lived on when I was at uni. I ended up perfecting the recipe before I graduated.”

“Ah. Well, it’s delicious!”

Martin smiled up at him. “You really think so, Jon?”

“I do. And maybe I won’t eat anything tomorrow either, if it means you’ll make me another one.”

This time, Jon laughed first, and then Martin, both happy and carefree, basking in the other’s glow.

And as the sun set outside, the two only wanted to be with each other, not caring about any papers on a certain desk, or anything else in the world, for that matter.


End file.
